Earning the Right
by Mycki Mor
Summary: His punishment has been swift. Harsh. Sadly, the worst is yet to come. And, loathe as he is to admit it, the thorns in his side are the only collective hope that he has left. / All characters. Various pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Earning the Right

Fandom: Avengers

Pairings: Various (Why spoil the surprises, I wonder?)

Warnings: Language, slash, het, mpreg, angry people of the female variety, and modern music-bashing. Eventually. Also, here, there be Original Characters.

Author's Notes: Shaking the rust off with this one. I promise a little bit of everything, with absolutely no fear. On my own part, that is. I may leave some ready to weep into their oatmeal. With that said, enjoy!

* * *

"_No. Mischief is a small thing, a toy I've well used and discarded. This isn't mischief. This is mayhem. Just watch."_

It seemed Thor - big, clunky, brazen, loud-mouthed Thor - was a surprisingly-easy figure to avoid. That came in handy when one wasn't supposed to be where one ended up. That one being Loki. And, that place being New York City. In a city of such a size, he was quite certain that the other could be misplaced in the center of the street. But, for better or worse, steering clear of Thor was not on his day's agenda. And, it really figured that, the one time he actually needed his brother, the big oaf was nowhere to be found. Luck was really turning in his direction.

A bitter chill was in the air, one that he could _feel, _causing Loki a deep frown, as he pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Not even October, yet, and the humans were forced into bulky bundles, just to keep warm. And, here he was, traipsing about the busy city streets like some sort of tourist. A commoner. If only other options were up for discussion.

It was a stupid idea, he knew, tracking down the Son of Asgard. After all, what was he to expect the other man to do with him? Send him right back into the throes of Hell, no doubt. Strike him clear across the room, if he was to be so lucky. Unless he was to explain, he hoped. Things were so much different, now. And, Thor _had_ to see that, he just _had _to. Or, so Loki continued to tell himself. Even if Father could not, Thor had to appeal to reason. To common sense. To that big, soft heart of his.

Nothing like taking advantage of a poorly-kept secret, he supposed.

Shaking his head clear, Loki once again began to move his feet, one in front of the other. _Stark Tower,_ a place that he remembered, well, was coming into clear view. He nearly sagged against the nearest building, in relief. His thighs were beginning to ache, his back likewise protesting the support of his upright angle for very much longer. After all, if he _did_ stop…

…-No. Stopping was not an option, either. He kept that notion in-mind, and took a deep breath into his lungs, pushing onward. Loki knew himself to be many things, but, a quitter simply was not among them. He would not stop until there was resolution to any situation (even if that meant blood and war, the price of peace of mind). And, this needed settling, as soon as possible. He was just about there. Only so many more steps to go, and he would have his chance. In so short a distance, hope awaited him. Hope, in the form of the monstrous Norse God who would think little, if anything, of hammering him straight across the city.

So much for the idea of that big heart.

* * *

It was getting so that a man - or, in his case, God of Thunder - could not even get through his Pop-Tarts, anymore, without a problem arising. The first smash was nothing to worry about, he figured. Nor was the subsequent crack that followed. Tony Stark was surely causing chaos with a new project, upgrading his suits, or tacking on that new gadget to the television. What had he called it, again? _TiVo?_ Well, it was never the mind, in the end, especially not when the third bang vibrated the entire level, causing a nearby porcelain fruit bowl to shatter to the floor, beneath, and the new assistant to all but leap onto the counter top.

Knocking his breakfast to the floor.

Thor closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. _Fantastic._

"S-Sorry," Mychelle nearly squeaked, climbing down from her accidental perch. She carefully retrieved the dry pastries from the floor, and handed them back to Thor with a nervous smile of apology. "Wasn't expecting that," she offered, weakly.

Accepting the Pop-Tarts back onto his empty plate, the blond man nodded. "I shall go and see what the noise is, then." He stood from the kitchen stool, and proceeded toward the source of the commotions. Noise was of little consequence to Thor, until someone was to get hurt. These humans were so jumpy, it was either incredibly comical, or extremely pathetic. He had half a mind to call it an even split, and go on about his day. But, to disturb the sanctity of a man's breakfast? No. No, such an evil deed could _not_ go, un-punished.

He was half-way across the living room when a tell-tale buzzing signaled a visitor to the Tower. He stopped, looking toward the entrance. There was not even time to debate whether to re-direct himself; before he could take a simple pivot-step, Mychelle was rushing toward the door with a distinct shouting of, "I've got it!" And, after all, who was Thor to argue her? As he understood things, it was in her job description, anyway.

Continuing toward the source of the disruptive sounds, the first thing that caught Thor's attention was debris. A lot of it. It littered the stairs, all of the way down to Stark's workshops. And, him temporarily without Mjölnir. How fantastic, indeed.

"Stark?" he called out, nearing his destination. He was careful of a rather large piece of - was that some of the ceiling? - by the last step. Shards of glass from the shattered door went unnoticed, as they crunched beneath his boots. "Stark? Are you down here? What's going on?" He was already assuming the worst. Had the genius finally managed to cause one of his own inventions to explode, right in his face? That was usually where the smart money was. And, if so, would the man live to tell the tale? To die a hero's death would have been far more satisfying, but, an idiot's death just seemed to be screaming out his comrade's name.

A single step further into the workshop, and Thor instantly knew that Stark's fate was nothing so glorious - nor anything quite so… embarrassing. In fact, the large man nearly palmed his forehead, eyes falling to rest on the two flushed, sheepish faces that greeted him.

"Hey, there, Big Guy," Stark offered, after a lengthy pause. He slowly began making his way to his feet, face twisting in pain, one hand gripping over a knee. "Shit… That probably wasn't the smartest idea…" He turned his eyes on the third party, accusingly. The Captain gave no response, other than to rub at the back of his own neck, seemingly content enough to remain on the floor, back rested up against the only untouched wall around them. Giving the room a once-over, Stark blew out a low whistle. "_Damn… Really_ bad idea…" At least Pepper wouldn't see it, he consoled himself. She'd flip her _lid._ And, these days, especially, he would much rather avoid that.

Still over by the crumbling entryway, Thor was shaking his head. "What were you two thinking? Do you know how _loud_ that was?"

Opening his mouth for a smart reply, Stark was denied his chance.

"I apologize, Thor," the Captain chimed in, finally seeing fit to work his way to a standing position. "It wasn't our intention. We were just… sparring… And, really, it just got a little out of hand."

Stark scoffed. "If you could call it that."

Cue eyebrow raise. "What exactly does _that_ mean?"

"That means that you fight like a little old lady, Rogers. Oh, hold on. Don't take another step. Let me fetch your walker."

"Listen, Stark," Captain threatened, pointing a gloved finger in the aforementioned man's direction, "One more 'old' joke, and I'll-"

"You'll, what? Beat me down with your cane?"

Thor rolled his eyes. He could already see how this had begun.

Captain's eyes narrowed. "That can be arranged, provided you don't intend to live long enough to see Fatherhood."

Just as it looked that Stark was about to lunge at the Captain, Thor forcibly stepped between the two. He stretched his arms out, keeping the bickering pair as far apart as physically possible.

"That's enough!" he commanded, staring down first the instigator, then the instigated. "I care not of how this began. I now wish it to be put to rest." He paused, individually eyeing each man, once again. "Are we at an understanding?"

The Captain glanced at Stark, then away, and nodded, still in a slight pant. Stark said nothing, instead pulling away from the hand against his chest plate, and retreating back toward his now-dust-covered desk. For Thor, that was close enough to peace.

Unfortunately, his own shouts had attracted some much-unwanted attention, as highlighted by a sudden gasping.

"_Oh, my_… Look at this place!"

Thor and the Captain looked up. Stark cursed, as quietly as he could manage. Pepper Potts stood by the foot of the stairs, eyes wide and disbelieving (though, how one honestly could _not believe _such a sight was still beyond the Norseman), mouth agape, and pale as a ghost. Behind her, Mychelle was in a similar state of shock.

At least he now knew who had been at the door.

"Pepper…" came Stark's sickeningly-placating tone. "Pepper, now, you know what the Doctor said. No need in getting yourself all upset over something you didn't need to see, in the first place."

The woman in-question turned her bewildered expression right on Stark. "_Look at this place!"_ she repeated herself, loud enough to rival Thor's own booming tones.

Stark knew to tread, lightly. "Look, Steve and I just got a little worked-up. Things got out of hand."

"'Out of hand' wouldn't leave Dummy _cowering_ in the _corner,_ Tony!" All eyes followed Pepper's gesturing hand, landing on a sad sight. Poor Dummy, surely trying to stay out of harm's way, had taken shelter behind a displaced shelving unit. Stark visibly flinched, though he would never admit, the severity of situation really beginning to sink in. Pepper paused, and took in a few, shaking breaths. "I can't believe you, Tony! How could you just go and be this reckless?"

There was no good answer to that demand. And, as such, Stark remained silent. Which only made Pepper all the angrier.

"And, _you!_" the woman continued, her fury suddenly directed at the Captain, whose eyes merely widened, a fraction, in surprise. "_How _could you just let him _do_ this? Did you _encourage it?_ I expect more of you!"

"Hey, now, much as I'd like to let him take all the fall for this one, it's not really just _his fault-_"

"Oh, _shut it,_ Tony!"

As the air began to electrify - and, not of his own doing - Thor seized the opportunity of sure escape, nudging the uninvolved and somewhat-wrongly-accused parties out of the workshop. The three quickly made their way back up the stairs, and down the elevator, temporarily freeing themselves of Stark Tower. They stood around, outside, in a bit of an awkward silence. The Captain relieved himself of his mask, and took a deep, calming breath. It was good to be Steve, again.

"I apologize for that," Mychelle began, after a few moments. "I tried to keep her upstairs, but, ah…" She eyed Thor, grinning, sideways. "_Your voice kind of carries, if you hadn't noticed._"

Thor snorted a laugh. "It was unavoidable, I am sure."

"You think she's really that mad?" Steve asked, twisting his mask in his hands, a few times. "I mean, I know we were in the wrong, but, she…" He paused, and sighed. He hadn't meant to upset Miss Potts, so badly. But, then again, he hadn't exactly expected to be _caught._

Mychelle waved a re-assuring, albeit dismissive hand. "Oh, she'll be fine… It's just the hormones." She tried for a positive smile. "I think she's just had enough of being 'kept quiet', the last few weeks." This seemed to do little to ease Steve's apparent guilt. The young Agent fell silent. She'd 'helped', quite enough, she figured.

"Mother and child shall be just fine, I am sure," Thor agreed, lightly patting Steve on the back - as lightly as one of his strength and stature could manage. It was a moment longer before Steve looked up, and into Thor's eyes… Before just turning, and walking away. Thor allowed his arm to drop back down to his side, watching Steve's form retreat back into the Tower. He was not alone in his observation.

"…-While it's really not my place, I have to say that I'm a little bit worried about him."

Thor could only nod in response. He, too, had seen it. It was hardly detectable, at first, the quiet that would fall over Steve Rogers. The tight emotion that would twist in his eyes, whenever the man's mind would wander away to something, to nothing, and surely to everything. But, slowly, over the last few months, the God had picked up on the almost… depressed aura, he supposed, that had been following his comrade. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He had not had a chance to call the man on it, yet. Though, he couldn't even be certain that he would seize the opportunity, was it ever presented to him.

Looking toward the sky, Thor allowed his own mind a moment to wander. It was about time that he consider going home, and soon. Short a stay, though it would certainly be, he had to admit that even a brief time in Asgard would do him wonders. He missed Mother, and Father… Friends, and comrades… Even his brother.

'_Even'?_ he scoffed at himself, mentally. _That is certainly a heartfelt sentiment._ He missed Loki… probably more than anyone, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. He had not even paid the man a visit, when last he was in Asgard. While he hardly felt that Loki would have cared, one way, or another, the guilt still weighed heavily upon his own mind. But, then, what would he have said? What could he have _done?_ With Loki's sentence and imprisonment, it was over.

_Oh, excuses, excuses,_ he could hear Stark's voice telling him, even now. If he was any brother, at all, he would have gone to see his own, in the first place. Not cower away from the very idea of sitting, face-to-face, with his criminal kin. There was so much to be said, and yet, so very little of it that would make a difference. If anything…

"Agent Cade," he began, at some length, before he could think better of it. "Have you any siblings?"

Mychelle glanced up, blinking in surprise. "Ah… Just one."

"Older, or younger?" He looked at her, sideways, for the briefest of seconds. Casting a private bet, in silence.

"Younger," she replied. Thor's face broke into a smirk, which she caught. "What? Why's that funny?"

Thor shook his head. "It's not. I am only considering that I am not surprised by this news."

Mychelle nearly scoffed. It was hardly what she would call 'news'. But, however the elder wished to take it, then, so be it. "I seemed the type?" she assumed, instead.

"Indeed." Content to leave the topic there, he heaved a sigh. "Rain is coming," he observed, casually. "Looks like it will be soon."

Following the other's gaze to the sky, Mychelle noted the graying clouds that skirted the horizon. She did not see where they appeared to be in a hurry to reach them, but made no comment of it. Another thought, entirely, had suddenly occurred to her, and she groaned. This grabbed Thor's complete attention.

"Agent Cade?" he asked, eying her with concern.

"I just realized…" she all but whined, hands coming up to cover over her face. "If it rains, then… We all get stuck _inside_… Listening to _THEM_…"

Under any other circumstances, the complete surrender to gravity by Thor's facial features would have been all-too-comical. Clearly, the poor soul had not considered that fact, either.

"What are our options?" he asked, in a panicked hurry. "It might take a little work, but, I could get us to Asgard?" It took a moment, but Mychelle chuckled, Thor not a second behind her. The situation, though not quite so dire as to call for a full retreat, did require a proper plan of attack. "Seriously. What are we to do with a rainy afternoon?"

Mychelle thought on this, for a moment, hands finally having left her face. "Do you like museums?"

To this, Thor raised an eyebrow. "_Loathe them._"

"Great," the Agent replied, with a grin. "We'll just tell them you wanted a little culture, when we get back."

Thor looked at her, curiously. "And, in the meanwhile?" He held his breath, knowing what answer he was hoping for.

Not one to disappoint such a hopeful expression, Mychelle nodded. "We can go see a movie."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: A bit more… drawn-out that I might have liked, but, what needs to be said, and all of that… And, if it seems like we're moving nowhere, fast, not to worry. I've made this journey before, and I still remember the co-ordinates.

Oh, and, as for the end of this chapter, I know it may seem rushed. But, keep in mind, a reason for everything, and everything for a reason.

* * *

Whiskey, Tony Stark had long-ago decided, was a miracle cure. Didn't really matter what ailed you, because, in the end, it was nothing that a couple of shots couldn't fix. Unlike a good bottle of scotch, best shared amongst friends (be they new, old, or potential), whiskey was a drink best served to one's self. And, preferably, kept that way.

Right about now, Tony was indulging himself in just a little bit of 'practice what you preach'. Four or five shots in - and, Pepper gloriously nowhere in his sights - the aptly referred-to Man of Iron spared a few, near-inebriated moments to reflect on the morning's events, and take stock of where things were headed.

Fact One: Pepper was pissed-off, which boded well for _no one._

Fact Two: He was the primary reason _why_ Pepper was so pissed off. Again. He sighed, and poured himself another shot.

Fact Three: He was almost out of whiskey. _Fuck._

Fact Four: He was less than three months away from becoming a Father. Someone's _Dad._

_Fuck._

Okay. No more whiskey.

Giving the bottle a light shove out of his way, Tony folded his arms atop the bar, and dropped his head onto them. What in the world was he doing? Drunk as a skunk, and it wasn't even lunchtime, yet. Granted, food sounded like a great idea, but he wasn't about to hobble his haggard ass into the other room to fix himself anything. Oh, what, oh, _what_ was a starving genius to _do?_

His mind gave a snap of the fingers. _Pepper._ She'd bring him something. He reached into his pocket, and produced his cell phone, flipping it open to dial-Ohhh, wait, now. He remembered Facts One and Two: Pepper was livid, because he had been stupid. Sighing, Tony closed his phone, tossing it onto the bar top, beside the whiskey bottle. What the hell was he thinking, anyway? He knew it was a stupid idea to go fighting in the workshop. Hell, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself - and, today, apparently, he was just so inclined - _he knew better._ He knew _better_ than to just _assume_ that Pepper would never have walked in on something stupid. He knew _better_ than to start a fight. He knew _better_ than to leave JARVIS on mute. After all, who else was there to alert him that Pepper had come by? Just that Agent.

Ah-ha! It wasn't his fault. JARVIS and the Agent should have told him. Damn traitors, the both of them. What good were either one of them, anyway, if all they did was keep their mouths shut? Apparently, he had no need for them. Period. It had a bright side, though. At least he was off the hook.

Grinning, he poured and swallowed a celebratory shot.

"Sir," JARVIS interrupted, forcing that shot down a little harder than Tony would have liked. "You have an incoming call; Director Fury, and he informs me that it is urgent."

Tony rolled his eyes. When _wasn't_ it _urgent_ with these people?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, pulling himself to his feet, somewhat awkwardly. "Put the bastard through."

"Up yours, too, Stark." Tony successfully held back a cringe at the sounds of Fury's voice. He would have to have another discussion with his answering service about how to hold a call. "This bastard comes bearing an order."

The genius snorted. "Unless it's for a large pepperoni pizza, I'm not interested, thanks."

"Stark, this is serious," Fury continued, short on patience he did not have, to begin with. "We've had a disturbance."

Another disturbance hardly should have surprised him. However, Tony suddenly found himself fighting to feign disinterest. "What is it, this time, then? Aliens? Cyborgs? Mutants?" he tried to quip. "We're really working ourselves up to a full house band, here."

On the other line, Fury sighed. "Are you drinking?"

"Nah, I stopped that, like… What? Thirty seconds ago, JARVIS?"

"If you are lucky, Sir," the A.I. seemed to deadpan. Well, then, screw him - it. Him? - too.

"All right, you listen up," the Director all but barked at him. "I'm going to send someone after you. You'd best be ready. You have five minutes." The call was disconnected, and Tony thunked his head down onto the counter top, groaning.

It was going to be a long day.

"JARVIS, order more whiskey."

"Right away, Sir." There was always an agreement, but never a follow-through. And, he was pretty sure he had never programmed JARVIS to deceive him with sarcasm. Right?

Five minutes. That left him with at least ten, judging by recent performances. Typically, Fury was nothing, if not punctual. But, with a slew of new Agents stepping up to the plate… There were bound to be kinks, he supposed. Best to get the jump on the kids. Taking a deep breath, Tony yanked his body into an upright position.

Just to gasp in pain, and hunch right back over. It seemed that he had hit his head a bit harder than he had originally suspected.

"_Fuck,_" he cursed, under his breath. It wasn't bad enough he had to go make nice with the Boss, but, now, it seemed that he was destined to add headache to headache. That somehow always lead to migraine, which lead to more alcohol, a little bit of food, re-tasting his dinner…

…-Yup. It was time to swear of booze in the a.m. Again. A change of career might not hurt, either.

"Sir," JARVIS broke in, again. "There is-"

"JARVIS, one more fucking word out of _you,_" Tony barked, "and, I will donate you to a monastery." He paused, and narrows his eyes. "_Silent order._"

Someone 'tsk'ed, softly, behind Tony. He would have turned around to see just who, but, what with the head, and all… "You'd probably die without JARVIS, and you still manage to treat him like dirt." So, it was Bruce, was it? Tony took in a deep breath, and slowly forced himself upright as the other man shifted subjects, not giving a chance for comment, defensive or otherwise. "Come on, Sunshine. Time to go."

Tony growled, softly. He _knew,_ damn it, he _knew._ Where was the fire, exactly?

It took only a moment for him to get the beginnings of his answer, as the heat suddenly manifested itself in Bruce's tone. "How the hell drunk are you?" Tony cringed, a little, if only to escape the rise of his friend's voice. Why was everyone so _angry_ with him, today, he wondered? "Damn it, Tony, we've got work to do! And, it's barely noon, yet!" Bruce placed his hands on his hips, and sighed. "All right, I'm sorry." He began picking up the empty bottles that surrounded his friend - whiskey, tequila, vodka, among others (not all from the same day, Tony would readily defend himself) - muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, 'And, you're going to be allowed around children?' But, then again, who was to say, really? As had already been pointed out, Tony was soused.

Properly disposing of what was affectionately referred to as 'the evidence', Bruce sighed. "Okay, then. Where's the coffee?" He moved to the cupboard, grabbing a jar of instant brew, and a mug to fill with water. Tony took the opportunity to scrub his hands over his face. Wasn't it bed time, somewhere?

"Hey, has anybody seen Thor?" Steve asked, striding into the room. He was already in his Star-Spangled Mess, and Tony barely managed to suppress a snicker. "I just got a call, and-"

"Yeah, we know," Bruce cut in, a little sharper than was necessary. But, hell, it got the Old Man to stop talking (that voice was _still_ like nails on the chalkboard of his brain), and, for that, alone, Tony could have kissed the good Doctor. You know, if he was so inclined in that direction. "Fury got hold of all of us, apparently."

Steve's shoulders slumped, his enthusiasm waning. "Oh… Well…" He cleared his throat, and looked at his two comrades. "Shall we go see to it, then?"

Setting a cup of steaming liquid in front of the resident invalid (not that it would ever be said aloud, but, it was a well-known fact, as it was), Bruce nodded. "Yeah, in a minute. If Tony can't sober up, at least a little bit, this is going to make for one heck of a meeting."

Tony glanced from one man to the other, Steve's expression seeming to ask "Are you fucking _serious?_", while Bruce's _clearly_ answered with, "Oh, yeah. _I know._" How dare they, not-talking behind his back? With him right in front of them, no less! Well, no more of that! Making a shaky stand, the billionaire reached across the bar - Bruce slapping at his hands, thinking him to be going for another bottle - and grabbed his bracelets. Slapping them on, he grabbed his mug, and nodded toward the other two.

"Gentlemen," he forced out, in as sober a manner as he could possibly fake, "I do believe that we are expected."

And, not a moment to soon. Steve had barely been able to roll his eyes before the humming sounds of chopper blades reached their ears. This seemed to relieve Bruce, greatly, where Tony merely smirked. He had been right. _Ten minutes, thirty-six seconds._

-o-o-

Silence reigned over the conference room for… Hell, they'd all lost count by that time. Each person was digesting the facts for his or herself, slowly mulling over the finer points and details of just _what_ it could all _mean_ for them.

As if it was that simple.

"Director," Bruce finally spoke up, "I'm sorry, but… What do you _mean,_ there's been Tesseract activity?" He shifted his eyes to Thor, then. "You'd know if it went missing, right?"

A similar thought had just skipped its way through the Asgardian's mind. "Director, Doctor Banner is right. I would have been informed, immediately, if the Tesseract had been taken, again. It is under very close watch."

This was where Steve felt the need to jump in. "But, if they've detected it here on Earth, how else do you explain it?"

"Perhaps, I don't," was Thor's sharp reply. "Not all information gathered is correct."

Fury rolled his eye, skyward. Silence was golden, but the aftermath tended to suck. "Be that as it may, Gentlemen…" He looked around the room, one time, silently daring anyone to make a peep. He gave a second glance to Stark, who was, thankfully enough, still sipping away at what must have been his third cup of coffee. Small miracles. He might actually get through a single meeting, yet. "The fact of the matter is that Doctor Selvig picked up a signal. And, yes, it was here on our planet."

Thor raised an eyebrow. "Why are you still following the Tesseract?" It seemed suspicious, to say the least. Odin had the thing under lock and heavily-protected key. What use did it serve that Midgar keep tabs on it?

It was a question that Fury had been anticipating. He sighed, and nodded his head. "After the incident with your brother, we thought it would be a good idea… Just in case. What happens once can surely happen a second time." Thor instantly huffed with offense, and Fury raised a hand at him. "While I'm sure your people do all you can, _our people_ prefer to be more cautious."

"Is there a location?" Natasha asked. She hated the idea of the boys continuing to bicker. Bickering wasted so much time, and re-directing the flow of the conversation was just _so much_ easier.

Fury returned a thankful nod. "We're working on pin-pointing it, now."

"What's taking so long?" Tony piped up, at long-last. It really was too good to be true, after all.

The Director's eye squinted. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you've known about this for, what? A full day, now?" Tony looked to Fury, then to Bruce. "You and I could have had it located, by now, you know." Bruce merely shrugged a shoulder, not wanting to start another argument, and Tony righted himself in his seat, once more. He glanced down at the bottom of his coffee cup, slowly moving the object in small circles, swirling the remnants of liquid inside. It seemed that he was done.

It was a golden opportunity for Fury to make Tony's day. He smirked. "All right, then, Stark. Why don't you make yourself useful, and go fix all our problems, then?" Tony looked up, mouth open to object, when Fury held up a finger to silence him. "You're the one with the complaints, and you're here, anyway."

Tony's grumbled protest was mild, before the billionaire nodded his head to Bruce. His fellow scientist acquiesced, following Tony out of the room without another word. As the door closed behind them, Fury let out a silent sigh of relief, and continued with his meeting.

With the clicking of the latch, however, Tony turned his eyes on Bruce. "You believe that shit?"

Silence followed them for several steps, Bruce choosing his words with great care. "I don't know," he replied, honestly. "While I wouldn't call the Director a _liar_-"

Tony scoffed. "_I would._"

Here, the Doctor stopped walking, staring at Tony with some measure of exasperation. "Think about it, Tony. Would Fury put up with an hour in your presence, just to put us on?"

Eyes narrowing at nothing, in thought, Tony nearly lost step as Bruce continued on, without him. He hop-stepped to catch up, settling back to his previous speed. "Touche," he admitted, at last.

Bruce simply smirked, stopping to open the proper door. It was time to prove someone correct.

-o-o-

Meanwhile, back at Stark Tower, Agent Cade was straightening up the sitting room while she awaited the return of the Avengers. With any luck, Clint - the only proper team member not included in the meeting at Headquarters - would be back from his mission, soon. Sitting alone in the Tower was a bit of a drag, but, orders were orders, and she was forced to obey them.

But, _damn,_ her _Kingdom_ for someone to talk to. Sure, JARVIS was great company, but, if someone was to come in and catch her chatting away with the (for lack of a better term) invisible caretaker, they'd lock her away, for sure.

Then again, it certainly beat talking to herself.

Just about to open her mouth, and engage in conversation, Mychelle was interrupted by the swishing of the elevator doors. Smiling, a bit, she stepped across the plush carpeting, taking her time. That was, until she heard the crash. It sounded as though something heavy had hit the floor.

"Agent Barton?" she called, hurrying toward the elevator. Rounding the corner, she took one look, and drew her weapon. "Freeze!" she yelled, somewhat unnecessarily. "Who the hell are you?!" Because, whoever it was, he wasn't Agent Barton. And, that left him about two steps from being sent to see his Maker.

From a tangled heap on the entryway floor, red-tinged eyes glanced upward, sharp teeth forming into a weak grin. "Good evening," a shaky voice forced. He seemed out of breath, sweat streaked across his pale forehead. "Who I am is of… very little consequence…" Shifting himself around, the man winced with every movement. He used the wall as support to stand, eyes flickering between the woman, and her weapon, which followed him the entire way. He let his head rest against the wall, and quietly began to gasp in a few breaths. "I was simply wondering if you might fetch me Thor?"


End file.
